the sun was for everyone but the moon is Mine
by batsugame
Summary: (...or, Unfitting Songs for Cases of Reluctant Comforting.) It's a general agreement that Kurosaki Ichigo suffered enough for more than two people. If heroes were the ones doing the saving, who're the ones saving the heroes? [OC warning.]
1. Start of Something New

a/n: i have an obsession over oc fics rn, its disgusting but theyre so nice aaaaaaaa. btw this isnt one of those real good serious OC SI fics bc im pretty bad with making it serious when its me ha ha h a also ichigo is very handsome U_U

_**unbeta-ed**_

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><p><strong>1.<strong>

Okay, so from what I know, having a prodigy for a child was either a bad thing or a bad thing. I mean, it's pretty disturbing on both sides; the parents are like, "Jesus, whose genes did that come from," while the kid is all, "Whoa, man, whoever it came from, I'm still y'all's."

I've always told my friends that I'd die before I turned twenty, but come _on_! I was just saying that because my GPA was really down there and there were literally _no colleges_ that wanted me. I didn't know what I wanted to do after graduation, I didn't even know what I liked to do. My parents nagged constantly about what major I was going to take, and how I was going to live in the dorms when I didn't even have a job.

Which was true, I didn't have a job, but I did apply to a lot of places. I just didn't have time to keep checking up on them, since that 2.1 wasn't going to do me much good and pushing for all A's for the entire year took a lot out of my personal and social time. I'm adaptable to a lot of situations, so I figured I'd just go with the flow.

And I was doing well for someone who had no plans for the rest of their life, even if I didn't even get to go to college.

Cars scared me, because I'd almost lost my mom in an accident. She'd been confined to a bed for months, unable to walk at all and needed help with things that'd make any person ashamed and embarrassed. (I did everything for her anyway, because Mom, you're still as beautiful as you said you were when you were twenty.) Even after she was released, she couldn't walk for without a cane and resting every couple steps. It was painful to see her get so frustrated at her own helplessness.

Ironic that it was a car accident that killed me.

How should I blame? My brother, who neglected driving safety? Me, for getting mad at him and finally snapping after years and years of being told to shut up unless I wanted to get hit? Or my father, who was the primary cause of how my brother turned up, nasty and inconsiderate to everything except himself?

It wasn't really anyone's fault. There were too many factors to think about (probably why people call it an "accident" anyway).

But the end result was my dead body. Luckily only mine—my brother made it out okay. He had a broken bone here and there, but otherwise he was breathing and not dead. As much as I hated him for crushing my self-esteem into dust, he was still my brother. Something about family made you capable of both loving and hating them.

Staring at the wreckage was mind-numbing, and seeing my corpse hurt my head. I didn't believe in ghosts, only because there was such a lack of proof of them. Now that I was one, I knew better (wasn't that just grand?).

I was going to miss a lot of things. My friends, for one. They were great, and I loved them. I sure as hell knew they loved me too, or else they'd have told me otherwise. They were just that kind of crowd, never whispering behind people's backs. If something was to be said, it was said. That quality rubbed off on me.

As much as I wanted to lament the loss of what I enjoyed—was I going to be stuck here? The moment that thought rang in my ears, the world flipped outside down and my ghostly body pummeled down—

—into another person's body.

...Well, more specifically, my mother's body.

Oh, no, not my _mom_; more like, hm, a woman that gives birth to me? Which would be my mother, except my mom wasn't Japanese and didn't live in Karakura Town.

See, the only thing that comes up in my head when I hear "Karakura-chou" is Bleach. I read a lot of manga when I was in high school, I loved the art and the bunch of new and modified concepts mangaka could put onto paper.

I liked Bleach, Ichigo was a well-rounded protagonist. The plots and characters were really well done, and the antagonists weren't that bad either. Tite Kubo didn't leave much up to speculation, which I know some people didn't like, but I thought it was nice to know the facts. (Speaking of which, I didn't get to finish the last arc, shame.)

I was both excited and scared to know I was thrown into a fictional dimension where monsters and death gods actually existed. I mean, I got the opportunity to see (and maybe interact with) the characters, which would never not be something fans of any manga wouldn't want. But at the same time, I had a much higher chance of dying (again) living in this world.

I didn't remember everything in the story, but the terminology was something I committed to my above-average memory, since I was a huge nerdy sucker for terms and what stood for what and what it did and what it was for and why. (Ugh, facts—couldn't get enough of them.)

Whatever wizardry went into the process of turning me into a Bleach side character let me fully understand Japanese (thank god, wasn't there over three thousand characters in the language or something, christ), so when I heard the doctor asking about an "incident" with my mother, of course I went kind of nuts. But (luckily) all I managed to do was give her a difficult time with some pretty hard kicks and intense cravings for food that I liked before my cross-dimensional rebirth, so just I mourned the origin of Fullbringers.

My mother was super in-tune with the emotions of people around her, an ability a dominant genetic trait of the Tanaka family, which was also apparently gave them enough spiritual power for Hollows to consider a late night snack. And not _one_, but a _shitload of them_ tried to eat her all throughout her life.

If a single encounter made someone like Kūgo Ginjō, what the hell would that make _me_? Well, at least I didn't have to worry about that until I was born...

Where was "_Himawari Sōingu_", anyway?

.

Turns out, Karakura has districts, twelve in total: Minamikawase, Kasazaki, Sakurabashi, Komatsu, Kinogaya, Mitsumiya, Mashiba, Karakura Honchō, Tsubakidai, Kitakawase, Yumisawa, and Gakuenchō.

Sunflower Sewing was my mother's shop, in Mashiba, which also had Mashiba Middle School, where I think Karin and Yuzu went to before the timeskip. The Kurosaki Clinic was actually a district away, in Minamikawase. The only other schools were Karakura High School in Gakuenchō and Karakura South Primary School in Komatsu.

School was both relaxing and taxing for me, since there was no algebra to be done and not a trace of Shakespearean plays to memorize. All we did was basic mathematics and looked at picture books that had only one word or so per page.

Me being actually eighteen years old mentally, this was incredibly easy and frustratingly small. I wanted to read something that didn't have drawings all over it and within a short span of two days in preschool I really wanted to solve an f of x function that required distribution.

Which, ah, actually leads me back to the "prodigy" thing I started with. I wasn't really shunned for having a larger thinking capacity than the average four-year-old, but a lot of the kids certainly didn't think it was cool of me to make better things with the building blocks than them.

My mother was amazed at how intelligent I was, and immediately tossed aside the baby talk the moment she realized I could speak like a young adult a year after I was born. "Goodness, my Midori-chan is such a smart girl," was all she said, before providing me with higher-level education material.

_Midori_. Honestly, it was a cute name. I just didn't think it fit me, since I was hardly "green". My full name was Tanaka Midori, and my mother was Tanaka Hinata (which made the store's name a lot more sense). I'm not sure who my father was, since he wasn't ever there for the duration of my mother's pregnancy and afterwards. I didn't really care who he was, so long as I was conceived with love and not... yeah.

Hinata was a great mother, better than my first mom. Not that I didn't love Mom, but Hinata loved me so much I felt it was inhumane of me to not return that unconditional adoration. Soon, she took the place of "Mom"; or in Japanese, "Kaa-san." She was bright and gentle and beautiful and honestly a bundle of warm sunlight that everyone couldn't help but gravitate towards.

One sun was enough, but then came along another.

Kurosaki... Masaki.

This lady really was as much of a mother as the manga made her out to be, and turns out she was also the one who helped Hinata with the Hollow issue. In turn for all the support, my mother fixed whatever rips in the fabric that Masaki brought over to the store free of charge.

And with Masaki always came her firstborn. Always.

Little Kurosaki Ichigo was cute as I don't know what. He was so bright and cheerful, and so... tiny. The biggest momma boy I've ever seen. He was around two years younger than me, which was a slight surprise, since I didn't expect to be older than the world's savior.

_Christ_, he was so different from his teenager self. Tiny Ichigo was very open and trusting. He loved lions, his mom, rolling in and down grassy hills, did I mention his mom, the color brown, and admired me. Admired. Me.

I blamed his mother, since she was the one who told him I was his "onee-san" days before he actually met me. I was six, which would have made him four. I suppose he thought I'd teach him the ways of older sibling-ry, with his sisters on their way from the looks of the gentle swell of Masaki's belly.

He thought I knew all the answers. The entire time we were together, he kept asking and asking about everything he saw and was curious about, and even though it should've annoyed me it was endearing to see him so eager and willing to the world around him, too.

"Why's the sky blue, Mii-nee-chan?"

"Because molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter other light."

"Wh-what's mo-re-coos?"

"Electrically neutral groups of two or more atoms held together by chemical bo—... things we can't see."

"Ohhh. Mii-nee-chan, what's your favorite color?"

"Probably red?"

"Why?"

"A lot of things I like are red."

"L-like?"

"Yeah, but most of them are things I eat: pomegranate, hot sauce, strawberries—"

"S-strawberries!"

"Uh... yeah."

"Mama told me my name means strawberry, too!"

"It can, yeah."

"D-does that mean you like _me_?"

'Jesus save my soul.' "...Sure."

Small Ichigo's responding grin was wide and pleased. Then the grin shifted into a more serious expression, and he bowed his head to stare determinedly at his righteous baby fists. I could almost see the Shinigami in him. "Mama says I have to protect the people I love," he mumbled, and I squinted in apprehension.

Oh no.

"And I love you, Mii-nee-chan, so I'll protect you, too!"

That drew a doubtful scoff, but also an indulgent smile, out of me. "Thanks," I said with a slightly dry tone, and reached over to ruffle the mess of orange spikes he had for hair (surprise, surprise—the softness of nettle without the sting). "But it's fine if you can't; just come to me, okay?" My hand probably lingered a few seconds too long, but I seriously wanted him to remember me when he starts beating himself up a couple years later for something that he couldn't help.

His grin bounced back full force and happily went ahead to hold our hands. "Mama also said that once you love someone, you'll always love them." What kind of answer was that. "Just like me and Mama does!" _Jeez_, I thought, as his face continued to glow like the sun his mother was, _family means the world to this boy_.

Then, to my sardonic amusement and mild horror, his cheeks pinked and his eyes shone with pure, unadulterated adoration (or love, he only said it like _six __times_) as he ducked his head again to look up at me in a bashful manner. "But, um..." I sort of dreaded what he was going to say next. "Mama and Daddy love each other in a diff—dif-fer-ent way, so they got married. She told me, she told me I can marry whoever I want, and—and I wanna marry you, Mii-nee-chan! "

As if he were afraid that I'd disappear, he squeezed my hand tighter and started to rush with his words. "That way," he blurted, "that way, I can love you forever, and you can love me forever, too!"

He might as well have stuck his teeny-tiny hands in my chest and pulled out my defenseless heart for his taking.

I cringed at this revelation (and at the proposal), which was a bad move since he saw and now looked like he was going to start with the waterworks in the next ten seconds.

_Aw, fuck._ "Don't you dare cry," I grumbled, a light scowl twisting my mouth when his self-applied wet blanket wasn't lifted, "I didn't even say anything yet."

The tears threatening to spill over halted and he gave me the most disgustingly persuasive puppy face. My shoulders sagged and I gave up trying to ward off the bundle of lovable contagion that was Tiny Kurosaki Ichigo. "Alright, whatever."

It was barely audible but he clearly heard it, given his whole body lit up like some kind of damn light bulb, sparkling eyes included. "Yes?! I can marry you?!" I was pretty sure I was just hallucinating, but I could have sworn for a minute there'd been flowers and glittery pink around his face. My six-year-old eyes must be tired from prolonged exposure to so much orange. I rubbed them and sighed, "yeah, why not."

Of course, the first thing the little shit (said with all the affection, I assure you) did when he got back to Mom's store was announce our (apparently immediate) marriage on top of his lungs. Both our mothers were thoroughly amused and thought his little crush on me was cute, cooing about how adorable we were together. They were obviously just playing along since Tiny Ichigo looked so happy, although the contemplative glint in Mama Kurosaki's eyes freaked me out a little.

After an hour of napping and getting smothered (a.k.a. Tiny Ichigo-style cuddling), it was finally time for the Kurosaki mother and child to go.

I've never seen a child his age put on such a heartbroken face.

Luckily he was still drowsy from our nap, or he would've definitely started crying instead of clinging onto me with only a mournful expression. His mom giggled and patted her son's head comfortingly, crouching down beside him with a patient smile. "Ichi-kun, we have to go home. You can play with onee-san again tomorrow," she offered in a comforting tone, but the boy adamantly stayed put. He didn't seem to take the thought of separation well and curled in tighter.

"My, your son really doesn't want to leave his new wife," I heard my mom say behind me, and turned my head as far as it could go to see her walking up with a bag. I narrowed my eyes at it and then at her. She wasn't going to... She smiled at me, and I groaned silently. "I give you full permission to adopt my daughter for a night or two, Masaki-san." _Traitor_, my mind supplied fittingly.

Ichigo's mother didn't even do a customary "oh, no, I couldn't possibly", she just let out a relieved exhale and stood to take the bag from her hands. "Thank you, Hinata-chan, I really appreciate it. I'm still not sure what to do when he gets like this."

I gave the both of them my best ugly face before shaking the arm Tiny Ichigo was latched to so he'd look up. "I can speak English really well, you know. Want me to sing you some dumb songs?"

Even half-asleep and previously the most petulant child in the world just two seconds ago, he managed to put the summer sun in shame.

All throughout the sleepover, I sang the corniest songs I knew in perfectly accented American English and honestly had a blast spending time with Tiny Ichigo. He was a good kid and wore his heart on his sleeve so it wasn't hard to keep him smiling, and he thought the more of me because of it.

(I met his dad, who gave me a thumbs up before throwing himself in Mama Kurosaki's arms and sobbing dramatically about how his son was already a grown man without a need for his poor father.

I laughed and ignored how my stomach had dropped like a bag of bricks the moment I saw him.)

.

Five years later, June 17th, the Tanaka family was invited to a funeral.

"She was walking home with her son," they said, "on the road beside Karasu-gawa."

"The boy had slipped," they said, "and his mother tried to save him. Shield him from the fall."

"She landed wrong," they said, "she died within seconds."

"She will be missed," they said.

They said, "we are sorry for your loss."

"Our condolences."

And then they left.

It was the first funeral I've ever attended. Even in my previous life, despite the people dying left and right in my friends' families, I haven't once been to one before.

Hinata was a wreck. She'd owed Masaki her life tenfold, and loved her like a sister. I heard her try to stifle her sobs, in respect to Isshin and his children, who had all the right to wail and weep at the foot of that cold coffin. She wasn't very successful at keeping it in, and had to excuse herself.

I hadn't been really feeling, or even thinking, until I saw the twins.

They were so small. Their eyes were wide and scared and confused. They didn't know why their mother was gone. No one would tell them, not even their big brother.

Their big brother, who wasn't there to comfort them. (Isshin was never the greatest father. It was always their Ichi-nii who they turned to for guidance.)

A part of me wanted to go find him and drag him back to his disorientated remaining family, but—

But. He was just a nine-year-old boy. Only nine. And I was twenty more older.

Feeling a presence stop beside me, I slowly looked up to see the towering figure of Kurosaki (_Shiba_, the humid summer breeze corrected; but no one needed a reminder) Isshin. His arms were crossed, and he had his family's signature brooding expression on. A moment passed before he began to speak. "Masaki was our sun," he said, stony-faced but voice coarse with grief.

I lowered my eyes in respect to that fact. It wasn't an opinion Isshin was stating, but the simple truth. The Kurosaki family were like planets, and Masaki was the sun they revolved around. She was the center of their galaxy. (And without her, they'll fall apart, blind in the sudden darkness.)

"The girls and I only had her to look to, when we were lost." His eyes took on a thousand-yard-stare. I caught on to the exclusion of his son and tilted my head in askance. He grunted in affirmation and continued, "But Ichigo had someone besides his mother." That far-away gaze drifted down to my face. "He had a moon."

There was a bitter taste in my mouth and it soured my answering smile, which I didn't even bother fixing. (Did he have to be poetic about it?) "Don't worry," I muttered, and turned around. "He still has one." To Isshin's credit, he said nothing and merely narrowed his eyes a fraction at my back.

_A moon._ The word made me scoff under my breath, as I spotted a tuft of familiar orange hair sticking out from behind a tree. Making an effort to smooth out my resentful mood, I approached the mourning boy with audible steps so he wouldn't be startled at the sound of my voice.

"Hey, Ichibi," I called softly, and rested a hand on his head. '_Comfort him_,' came a hiss from the back of my mind, '_make him feel better._' He didn't spare me so much a glance, but leaned against my legs in acknowledgment. I sighed through my nose and ran my fingers between the locks of his bright hair.

If the hero's doing the saving, who's saving the hero?

'_That's why you're here._'

_But there's only so much I can do before he'll grow tired of me_, I thought with a wane smile.

"She's gone," the little boy said, his words muffled and so quiet I almost missed them.

I considered the things I could say to him. "I'm sorry." "No use crying over it." "We all miss her." "It's okay."

They all sounded full of it. Those phrases were the bullshit your neighbors would tell you before moving on to their next chore of the day.

Instead, I knelt down beside his huddled form. My thoughts scattered and my lips seemed to form words on their own. "I'm here."

He finally lifted his head and looked at me, but there wasn't much sadness than the dim awareness of silent realization in his brown eyes. "You are," he murmured, and something hard set in his baby face. Very deliberately, he circled his arms around my neck and pulled me into an embrace. "You always are."

I stared at the descending sun behind him and slowly returned the strange hug without a word.

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><p>an: i dont know when the next chapter is gonna be done, sorry

it took me around five days to do this one bc i dont have much free time and writing isnt coming as easily as it was years ago :((

**edit:** fixed little mistakes here and there, added a few words and my gratitude

_its! the! start! of something newwww it feels so riiight to be here with youuuu, lol_


	2. Eye Of The Tiger

a/n: thank you for the adorable review and afterword opinions, **humble servent** and **Kushina98**! :D they gave me toothaches from how sweet they were D:

unfortunately one of you have disabled PMs and i couldnt reply immediately, so i hope you see this message instead?

(redid this chapter like 3x suffering 5 consecutive nosebleeds and couldnt eat sour straw candy with paper up my nose lol)

**_unbeta-ed_**

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><p><strong>2.<strong>

The first time Yasutora meets Kurosaki Ichigo, he thinks he's weird. With that bright orange hair and disregard for social norms, anyone would. He was also a delinquent who fought other delinquents more often than not, which Yasutora had sworn never to associate with since his _abuelo_ died.

That same weird boy had willingly fought those bullies back, and even rebuked him for his pacifistic tendencies. Then he had asked about his treasure, his grandfather's coin, if it was "important".

_"Very important,"_ he'd replied, _"Maybe even more important than my life."_

The boy had turned away at that, as if he understood that particular sentiment. And for a second, Yasutora had thought he would share something similar, from the way his eyes had gone distant, as if he were reviewing some far-off memory in the past.

But in the end, he just sat down next to him and complained more about his half-hearted answers.

Tomorrow is like déjà vu.

Yasutora is once again compromised, beaten up by the very same boys from the other day. This time, he's tied to a chair with thick electrical cable wire, and he doesn't think even Kurosaki can get him out of this one.

But like Superman, he does.

Right before his precious coin is cut in two with a pair of pliers, a well-aimed kick in the face sends Yokochini stumbling into the river shoreline, and there he is. Yasutora stares with disbelief at the orange-haired boy, who digs into the other delinquent's pocket and calls 119.

He's crazy, he thinks, as he watches Kurosaki count the number of ambulances needed in accordance to the truants left standing with a cocky grin and dives headfirst into a five versus one brawl. It's unfair, and logic tells him Kurosaki isn't going to win, but there's a traitorous, underlying glimmer of hope that's rooting for him nevertheless.

It almost sputters out, however, when one of the Weasel's cronies — the smallest and first down — sneaks off by crawling towards where Yasutora is bound with a hateful glare and arrogant sneer. He gets up on shaky legs and pulls out something that flashes in the sunlight. Yasutora can't bring himself to alert Kurosaki when the boy is occupied with fending off four people at once, and resorts to doubling the effort trying to free himself.

"You'll pay for what your gangster-wannabe pal did to Yoko-chin," the scrawny boy spits, and raises the switchblade threateningly.

He doesn't get the chance to bring it down, though, and Yasutora is shocked when a bookbag comes flying out of nowhere. For some reason there's a crunch as it lands squarely in the boy's face, and he lets go of the knife in favor of scrabbling uselessly at his profusely bleeding nose.

He's shocked again as a girl zips into view and snatches up the fallen bag, swinging it with such force into the beanie-wearing punk's gut that it knocks him off his feet.

"_Hasta la vista, you second-grade loser,_" she yells in not-Japanese, cracking her suspiciously effective weapon across another one of the delinquents' heads, and he's starting to think it's "Surprise Sado Yasutora Day". He knew English was a major course, but since when did Japanese education include Spanish?

Pretty quickly with the girl's help, the fight is over and Yasutora gets to witness an entirely unexpected side of Kurosaki. The orange-haired boy frets over the proven-tough girl and pats her down for injuries, only to stop mid-way to her waist and retreat as if he was burned. He turns tomato-red, which Yasutora can't help but raise his eyebrows and smile at. He tries to smother the amused chuckle when Kurosaki palms his face and asks what she was doing here in a muffled and strained voice.

The girl just shrugs and unzips her bookbag, taking out what looks like a concrete brick. She drops it without a care, which makes Kurosaki yelp and gape incredulously at her. She ignores it and reaches in to pull out another brick to give it the same treatment as its forefather.

"You could've actually killed someone," Kurosaki says, sounding reproachful even with a grin growing on his face. The girl returns the smile with extra cheekiness, but sighs with exasperation when it only makes his fading blush come back. "Well I mean..." she drawls with a slow roll of her eyes, flipping her hair in a manner that mirrors the leisure of her words, "They tried to kill your friend first."

At that, Kurosaki's attention is (somehow reluctantly) drawn away from the girl of his obvious affections and to Yasutora, who was still bound to a chair. He heads to him, rudely stepping on the beat-up bodies on the way, and picks up the pliers that'd almost snapped his new-found friend's treasure in half.

"All right, let's do this, Chad," Kurosaki — Ichigo starts, as he crouches behind him to cut the wires, "You keep doing your thing and don't fight for yourself. But!" Yasutora could almost picture the other boy jabbing the clippers into the air for emphasis. "Fight for me, and I'll fight for you." He says this as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"If you put your life on the line to protect something—" His coin soars through the air, glittering all the way to the girl's catching hand. "—then I'll put my life on the line to protect it, too." The last of the wires fall away and Yasutora stands up with a grimace, his joints all creaking in protest. He's stretching to relieve them when he hears the grit of pebbles and looks down at the hand holding up his treasure. He holds out his own, and she drops it in the middle of his palm. With a blink, he realizes she's wearing the Karakura High School uniform.

Ichigo walks up beside him not with his signature brooding scowl but with a small, relaxed smile. (Yasutora is pretty sure it was because of the girl.) "Promise?"

Resigning to the nickname, Chad nods and closes his fist around the coin, meeting some unknown challenge in the older girl's eyes. "Promise."

Later, he learns that her name is Tanaka Midori. She is a junior, two years older than both boys, and her mom owns the sewing shop in Mashiba, which makes her an obligatory member of Karakura High's sewing club.

(He also confirms that Ichigo does have a serious crush on her, but by the look she gives him, that's something left unsaid.

But he does choke trying not to laugh when the interested glint in Mizuiro's eyes fades away into meek but graceful acceptance at the sight of Keigo getting elbowed in the face for flirting with her.)

.

Tatsuki doesn't care about appearances. She's a black belt in Karate and one of the best fighters in town, regardless of gender, so whether or not she looks like her gender doesn't matter a whole lot to her. She's a diamond in the rough and dishes out hard love to all her friends, even to gentle and harmless Orihime.

No one wants to mess with her, and that's something she can definitely live with. Unlike most delinquents in the area, she has a _respectable_ reputation in the art of swinging fists, and that lets her focus on her education and pursue her dream of number one fighter in the world at the same time.

That said, even she's a little intimidated by Ichigo's older girl friend.

(Tatsuki's seen her around a couple times before, but she's never really given her a second thought until she stumbled across one of Ichigo's typical brawls with a gang from another school. Her orange-haired friend seemed to handle the situation pretty well, until one of the boys tried ambushing him from the shadows with a bat in his hands. She'd opened her mouth to call out a warning — only to close it with a click of her teeth as he was suddenly yanked back. The faint crackle of electricity and thump of a body crumpling to the ground had sent chills down her spine.

It was no luck that'd saved Ichigo from a concussion, she realized, staring with wide eyes at the sight of a familiar girl, who sniffed as if she were royalty and glanced down at the unconscious boy at her feet with utter disdain shimmering in pitiless black eyes.

The blocky Taser was tossed to the side and with it Tatsuki's hard-earned bravado.)

Tanaka Midori carried herself with a different kind of confidence (with the air of a far more matured woman). She was "girly", far more so than Tatsuki, with her almost iconic shiny pink phone and matching sparkly strawberry charm strap, but there was something about her that made her a repellent to not just bullies but just everyone in general.

Tanaka wasn't the type of girl people would call pretty or cute like they would Orihime. She had only slightly above-average looks at best: mediocre breasts, not-so-thin waist, almost nonexistent hips and wide thighs. Her "saving grace" — as some others had put it — was really only her face, though that didn't amount to much either.

Ichigo probably didn't see it, but he was a good-looking boy. Almost blindingly handsome, surprisingly intelligent, built like an athlete and stupidly charismatic — Tatsuki lost count of how many girls had come up to her asking if the orange-haired brat in a teenager's body had a girlfriend. (Until recently, the answer had always been "no".) It was hardly her business to decide who liked who and who should go out with who, but even someone like her grew curious about that honestly mystifying overly-obvious crush.

Then, on a normal day after school club activities, Tatsuki found the opportunity to ask served to her on a silver platter. They both approached the front doors of school at the same time and made normal eye contact.

Surprisingly (or maybe not), it was the older girl that initiated the conversation. She'd blinked and then nodded to her. "Hey."

It was so normal that Tatsuki had to blink. "Uh, hey." She mentally punched herself for making it awkward. Fortunately, Tanaka didn't notice (or didn't care), and continued to walk down the street with a shrug. Tatsuki muttered a mild curse under her breath and jogged to catch up, the million-dollar question tumbling from her lips before she had the thought to stop it:

"You know that Ichigo likes you?"

Amazingly, that did nothing to make older girl falter. She merely glanced at the accomplished martial artist and gave a short little hum, tilting her head as if in thought. "It's kind of obvious," came the dryly amused reply, and Tatsuki flushed with embarrassment, but decided it wasn't going to hurt since the other girl decided to roll with it.

"Are you gonna, uh, go out with him?"

Another glance, except with raised eyebrows. "Dunno."

"Would you care if someone else asked him out?"

This made Tanaka stop, and Tatsuki tensed in preparation for a fight — in whatever form it was going to be. Something hardened behind the older girl's dark eyes, and she grinned almost maliciously. "Is this about your ditz of a friend's crush on Ichibi?"

Tatsuki all but snarled in defense of her best friend and couldn't quite fight down the blush that came with what she couldn't help but think was a sexual implication about Ichigo. "Orihime is not a ditz," she hissed, restraining herself from decking Tanaka across the street. Tanaka in turn snorted and rolled her eyes, crossing her socks-less ankles. "Call 'em how I see 'em," she said plainly. "If she want him that bad and thinks I'm a threat," she let out a bark of laughter, vicious and apathetic, "Tell her I ain't in the way."

With that, the junior strolled off with her hands in her pockets. Tatsuki glared balefully at her back, willing and wishing and hoping with all her might that Ichigo would see the good in Orihime instead of that—...

(The next day when she greets him at their lockers, he passes her without so much a glance and walks right up to Orihime who blushes brightly at the sudden confrontation. Tatsuki doesn't hear what he says to her, but the sight of how quickly her best friend's face sobers and falls in disappointment makes her heart drop and ears deafen with the raging of her blood.

She's never hated someone so much in that moment, because who _else_ could have told him; but then he turns to her with an unforgiving stare and she realizes she's forgotten to consider his feelings on the matter too.

But that still doesn't change her mind about his horrible choice in girls.)

.

He never asked for this. His entire existence was a damn mistake, but that's just too bad. They were the ones who gave him life; if they thought they could take it away at their stupid whims, then they were dead wrong.

He was living, he had a soul, he had as much right as the next guy to keep breathing.

If that meant robbing some wet-behind-the-ears idiot of his (admittedly useful) body, then that was that. He'd do anything to save his own ass. And anyway, didn't that show-off Shinigami have whole 'nother world to get to? It wasn't like he needed this shell anymore, not with that fully functioning and enhanced "death god" physique of his.

Oh, _yeah_.

He was so going to mooch the hell out of this.

(Hey, if a guy scores this lucky, who's to say they can't take advantage of it?)

Scaring the shit out of that old geezer was funny, but the real fun starts with a nice, supple pair of...

**Hot damn, look at the size of—**

That should be illegal (not that he's complaining). He's up at cloud nine: he does as he always does and plays it cool, 'cause _souls_ she was way too sweet a catch to screw it up. While he's charming the lovely lady, someone runs off in a hurry. It was one with the long hair, and although he laments the loss of a female presence, he doesn't worry about it too much. She was probably going to get an adult or something; nothing he couldn't handle.

What he doesn't expect is for her to bring another gal.

He's dodging desks and chairs (it was like she-hulk over there ain't ever got pecked, what was her deal), which is easy peasy with his super legs and the body's already oiled reflexes. Well, until his eyes land on the new girl, anyhow.

All of the sudden, he's short of breath and his skin heats up like he has a fever. He stumbles and clutches at his chest, feeling like it was going to burst — what the hell's happening? Does this body have asthma or whatever? Why is its motor control plummet to crap like this?

A hundred questions are running through his mind and there's swearing a-plenty too, and it feels like hours flew by, but they all stop when he opens his eyes and sees the cause of the sudden malfunction close-up.

The organ humans called the heart leapt up his throat and he couldn't breathe.

He couldn't breathe.

"Ichibiiii," he realizes with a start she's been calling out to him for a good couple seconds now, and the sound of her voice sends heat to his ears. Her lips move, and the body's eyes look to them automatically. "Dude, you good? Feelin' a'ight in there?"

The mouth restarts itself and he hears its voice project its thoughts. "I feel great," he breathes out, eyes wide and unblinking like he's been hit by an epiphany. Then, "Can I kiss you?"

He can't believe he's said that (she's not even that pretty, what the actual fuck was going on) and by the look on her face she doesn't either. In fact, the half the class goes up in chaos while silence falls in a hush on the other half. In his peripheral vision he can see the girl he'd tried to woo deflate. (He duly notes the hopeful glimmer that'd sparked in those big silverine eyes when he'd smacked her hand.) He really (personally, anyway) didn't want that, he was serious about her, not _her_!

But the body he currently inhabited just... wasn't. It thought the average-looking girl in front of him was better, apparently by leaps and bounds, than what was blatantly more.

All this flashes through his head in mere seconds, not even past five, and the stupid fleshy husk he's in decides that his brain is too slow on the uptake and goes for it without waiting for the plain girl's reply. (Which was _rude_; you _always_ ask and no means _no_.)

Immediately hands come up in self-defense, but he's stronger and he dwarfs them in his own as they're pulled away and unfairly restrained. There's nothing else in the way and he ducks down, only to have his nose bashed in with a particularly rebuttal headbutt. He yelps in pain and snarls, _this ugly_...

The other classroom door slams open with a ear-popping bang, and all eyes swivel to the newcomer in surprise. There's a shout, almost a command, but all he knows is that she's distracted and open and they were the softest things he'd ever felt.

It was hardly gentle and he was pretty sure it was more teeth and mouth than lips and it was sloppy and kind of hurt, but that tight feeling in the chest loosened considerably. (There was something far more dangerous underneath, but he really didn't want to know.) Then a shadow looms over him, and he detaches himself as quick as possible, turning to see a face dark red (with fury or embarrassment, it was hard to tell) and twisted into something unpleasant.

Needless to say, he hightails it out of there and almost laughs at the stupid Shinigami's screeching and explosive cursing.

(In the end, he doesn't die. He almost did, but he didn't, and he had those weird humans to thank for — even if he was a plush lion thing now. Kon's a dumbass name, although seeing Ichigo get all flustered after everything had calmed down made up for it. He felt like the carrot-headed moron should be more grateful about the step forward in his relationship with that girl he's obviously super into.

But really, the guy had zero taste in ladies.)

.

She's had an inkling of suspicion about what was going on with Ichigo from the vague words of that girl and the way he'd been acting yesterday.

The newly christened Substitute Shinigami is quiet, even more so than usual, and maybe that bright greeting he gave Inoue was a little strange, but opting out from his duties was inexcusable and she makes this known with an outburst that would have had the captains' disapproval, had they been here. Even if he looked as if someone died—

"It's the anniversary," he says, voice soft despite her shouting, "Tomorrow is the day my mom died."

She wants to swallow her tongue and never speak again. ('_You didn't know,_' the stubborn part of her snorts in defense, and while that's true, it was still insensitive of her to think like that.) She wants to apologize, but the hardness in the boy's face forces her to reconsider.

"No, that's not it. In truth, it wasn't just the day she died." He turns to her and she wonders how a human this young could already have a mentality stronger than most Shinigami officers. "It's the day she was killed."

She's reminded of Kaien and how her captain told her that he had to do this, that he had to avenge the deaths of his wife and comrades by facing that wretched Hollow on his own. She'd never admit it, but that was the worst decision of her life and she'd be damned if she let this fifteen-year-old boy (_fifteen_, barely a baby compared to her hundred and fifty so years) to the same fate.

In respect to the Kurosaki family, she sighs and reluctantly allows Ichigo the day off.

That doesn't mean she's letting her guard down, however, and the next day she arrives at the top of the hill before the visiting family does. She puts on a bright smile and waves as cheerily as she can, inwardly snickering at Ichigo's frantic excuses for who she was.

(She doesn't quite miss the suspicious and worried expressions of his sisters, and she hears the lighter haired one whimper about her brother being a playboy cheater. The one with Ichigo's scowl raises her voice, threatening to "tell Midori-nee" if he "really was two-timing". Rukia can't help but laugh at the high schooler's flinch and grimace, and she tries half-heartedly to remember a "Midori".)

They argue for a bit, about how the Kurosaki mother actually died, until the boy cuts himself off and bolts the other direction. She whips around to see what it was that made him blanch like that, but there's nothing there.

She catches up with him, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking hard enough to make him stumble to his knees. The picture doesn't sit right with her, for someone of his character to be kneeling with his head bowed, but she pushes that thought down and demands why he'd run.

"It wasn't a Hollow or anything," his voice straining to contain what sounded like guilt and self-hatred. Her stern demeanor falters at it. "The one who killed Mom..."

"...was me...!"

Rukia doesn't believe that for a second, and bets her honored brother's pride in the Kuchiki clan's name that it wasn't — isn't — true. Saving the boy some unneeded embarassment, she looks away and just offers a hand. Emotionally burdened, he takes it without question and gives it a single squeeze as thanks. She scoffs at that and just waves him away, but sits herself on the wall above the gathered family to keep a close eye on them.

She watches with slight amusement as twins point at the batch of sunflowers leaning against their mother's tombstone. "Look," the one she remembers as Yuzu exclaims, her tone surprised but not unpleasantly so, "Midori-nee was here!"

"Aah? What the heck, she came before us," Karin, the girl with Isshin's black hair, complains, but Rukia pinpoints the good nature of it. The girl looks around and then crosses her arms. "Looks like she didn't stay this year, either."

That makes their father stop in his loud and silly antics and pout comically. "Aw, this year's 'BA-DUM! Kurosaki Family's Tombstone Domino Rally' is a no-go, too..."

Rukia raises her eyebrows in mock interest when Ichigo's shoulders droop a little as well, even though he tries to mask his own disappointment. "She's probably busy, or something," he mutters, which she has to strain her ears for, and rubs the back of his neck with one hand. She's long recognized that as a gesture of nervousness or shyness, and she's starting to realize who the mystery girl is.

She smirks at it and lets herself feel a bit of envy at how lively the Kurosaki family is as Isshin bounces back to his upbeat self, causing the twins to shout (Karin) and yelp (Yuzu) and Ichigo to sigh.

Kon pops out from her backpack and they talk for a bit, until the plush remarks on something that hits home. It's not his fault, she knows, but it still hit. And it hit hard. The day was starting to get worse as it went on, and the shrill whistling Isshin was doing didn't help with her mood. Something was wrong, something...

Then, she senses it. A Hollow, not far from where she was. She swears and runs towards the presence as soon as she gets the (late, stupidly late) message from the Denreishinki, hoping she'll get there in time, because that's where Karin's spiritual signature was.

The fight was no doubt emotionally depressing on Ichigo. Grand Fisher's list of victims included his mother, and it had hurt both his little sisters. She's scared for him, because this monster was above what the boy could handle, and tries to help. But the foolish teenager snaps at her and insists that he fight it alone, and the situation is so similar to the one decades ago she wants to give into herself and sob from helplessness.

She doesn't do that, though, instead steeling her psyche and doing the next useful thing by grabbing Kon and forcing the pill into Ichigo's motionless human body. Immediately after that, she healed the girls and ordered Kon-Ichigo to carry them back to where their father was.

It was the least she could do, and that frustrated her. She didn't know Ichigo well enough to offer comfort, nor did she have to power to ensure his survival with his clash against Grand Fisher.

She desperately wants to help. She doesn't wish for Ichigo's death, not when he's so young and still in school. But she couldn't, the boy all but begged that she left the fight to just him—

"...Please go and save Ichigo," Kon says, using Ichigo's voice, and her determination shifts motives. She tries to argue, but ultimately takes off, because she'd truly be the heartless woman Renji thought her to be if she didn't.

(Pride be _damned_, what good was pride if you were dead?

But...

She gripped her forearms and watched with grim desperation that Ichigo didn't die, that she would be quick enough to intercept on the account of his life.)

In the end, Grand Fisher ran away. Both it and Ichigo were badly hurt, the latter only because the Hollow kept using the boy's mother's image as a shield. But it was over, and that was all Rukia cared about. She'd never fully understood why pride was something that stood above life, and she suspected she never would.

_That's okay,_ she thinks furiously to herself, as she pours all the pathetically depleted amount of her spiritual power into healing the collapsed Substitute Shinigami. _I never want to, if that's all there is to it._

Rukia feels a pang in her chest at the subtle but somehow obvious show of love Isshin shows to his son. She shakes her head at the sting; she was over a century old and she was pining over something she should have grown up on?

"You listening, Rukia?" She blinks at his calling and focuses on the boy, who looks up at her with nothing but fierce determination in his face. "Does it look like your Shinigami powers are returning?" She doesn't respond, and he squares his shoulders. "Whether it is or not, please... let me remain a Shinigami for a little while longer. I want to become strong."

Well.

She smiles at the end of hearing his resolution, and she wonders if this is what it feels like to have a younger sibling — proud and full of certainty.

* * *

><p>an: i honestly meant to put this chapter up a month ago but things came up like exhaustion and unplanned family trips to disney world that go bad

anyway im gonna go back to midori's first person point of view next chapter and then do another third person after that

probably a pattern unless i think otherwise

i love rukia she is queen bow down to her majesty

i also like tatsuki despite her small screentime just not as much as her righteousness that is rukia

also i was planning on adding ishida and urahara but i have other ideas for those two

(i'll fix any mistakes later)

_its the, eye of the tiger, its the thrill of the fight!_


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